Read this. It gave me the giggles. Also, for those who are interested, this is what marriage is.
Love,
Cardinal
It has been a year and a half since I last posted. A lot has changed. I got married and it wasn’t scary, it was lovely. The whole day was perfect. I’ll spare the details before the nauseatingly lovey-dovey, syrupy-sweetness of it all triggers anyone’s gag reflex.
The point here is that I did it. I married my best friend (gag) and at no point was there an escape plan in action. I tell people that I got through the stress of the day with the use of some handy-dandy anti-anxiety meds, but that’s a lie. I have never felt calmer or more at peace than the day I married my husband.
That was back in November though and since then, our lives have been hectic (understatement). We are both in grad school and living almost solely off loans, so money has been tight. Like, really tight. Like feeling as though I may actually take a human life if he buys one more thing for his motherfucking car. I know this is normal, but it worries me because money is one of the leading causes of divorce and I don’t take failure well.
Being married is the same thing as living with someone (and being fully committed to them) but now we have nicer things and lasts year’s tax return was awesome. I tell people this over and over, but it’s like they want more. As though I need to feed them a fairytale so they can have something to hold on to. I refuse to do this. Find your own goddamn fairytale. This one’s taken.
I’m hoping that returning to this blog and allowing it to be my inner voice to share my secrets with the world will keep me from getting a divorce. Kidding. I’m hoping to have some hilarious stories to share, and some slutty married sexual experiences, too.
Welcome back, Owl and Raven. I’ve missed you.
Posted in The Cardinal
Tagged committment, Love, Marriage, money, school, Sex, wedding
I doubt the legitimacy of every good thing in my life. Yes, I realize how disgustingly emo that sounds. This is something about me that I wish I could change. I have Daddy Issues, which have resulted in Trust Issues, and there’s a constant struggle to remind myself that I deserve good things*. What’s even more difficult for me to understand is when the good things come around, it’s OK to like them. Even if they go away, at least there were some positive experiences along the way.
No one likes to feel vulnerable. For me, a sense of vulnerability comes along with allowing the world to know that I’m happy. I care way too much about what other people think about me and I never want people to feel sorry for me. If I allow myself to be publicly happy about something in my life, I immediately start to worry that it will go away and I will look like a fool.
We are getting married in about 6.5 months. D is more loving and affectionate with each passing day. The guy can’t get enough of me and he is so excited to plan a lifetime together. I, on the other hand, feel suffocated. This is hard to explain…He has always treated me well and the decision to get married was (is) mutual. I have not once doubted that I want to marry him. But this fast-approaching date is overwhelming me to an extent that I could not possibly put into words. When I marry him, I will vow to love him forever and ever, times infinity, plus ponies, in front of all our closest friends and family. But what if he changes his mind? What if I change my mind? What if we haven’t been with enough people to know for certain that this is what we want? Someone grab me a paper bag…
To be continued.
*If someone shouted in your face how worthless you were every day, you’d most likely feel the same. No judgment, please.
My fiancé (aka D) is the first Nice Guy I’ve ever been with. The list of boys before him is by no means lengthy, but they were all fairly shitty people to one extent or another. (Why do girls do this?) A truth that I hate, but will share with you now, is that I started dating him believing that he was just going to be a rebound. I didn’t want to be alone, and I figured at least this one won’t break my heart too badly. How awful is that? I’ll spare the mushy details because this sparkly little number on my finger shows that my feelings for him obviously changed, but it’s really been bothering me that this is how We started.
I’m in a phase in my life where I can’t really talk honestly with anyone about my relationship. D is a wonderful person, (in a serious way, not in a maybe-if-I-talk-him-up-enough-people-will-believe-me way) however, having a Mr. Wonderful means that you are never allowed a moment of honest venting about your relationship. It also means that you are not allowed to relate to other people’s relationship problems. Even if you can, even if it is very easy to do so, your opinion doesn’t fully count because as a Happy Person, you couldn’t possibly understand.
This is very frustrating for me.
I’ve been observing a lot of relationship-related bullshit over the past week or so. It’s painful to watch. I want so badly to save everyone I love from this heartache and want even more to force them to see things the way I see them. This won’t change anything though. People have to learn from their own mistakes. They have to touch the hot stove themselves before they learn to never do it again.
I am too damn maternal for my own good.
That all too familiar feeling is hitting me with a force of bricks to the face. I am feeling it creeping under my skin. Nails on a chalkboard would be more appeasing that this.
I am falling in love. Again. Fuck.
I swear, I just got out of it. Was it not yesterday that I was closing my eyes and envisioning a movie moment of welcoming embrace with a man that I so fled from a year ago? I don’t even enjoy it. There is a stomachache associated with my days now. I am nauseated. If I weren’t so sure of my inability to have children, I would swear this was morning sickness. But it’s not. It’s just a horrid feeling.
I am usually on the other side of this scenario. I am the one breaking someone’s heart. Jenna Jameson’s tattoo may someday find itself on my ass out of sheer humor and accountability. I don’t want love. Not right now. I want to be alone – quiet, calm, and alone. I don’t want a mundane evening of asking my partner what we should watch on TV tonight. I don’t want to cook dinner for an Us. I don’t want sex that is so routine that clocks could be set by it. I want to be alone with my channels, my food (or lack thereof as I have recently had an aversion to all food), and my ability to not wash my hair for three days and have no one to harbor judgment. I am better at this – being alone.
